


Orange, Purple, & Pink

by minidumpling



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Adora (She-Ra) Needs a Hug, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Normal High School, Catra (She-Ra) Needs a Hug, F/F, Headcanon, Human Catra (She-Ra), Jock Adora (She-Ra), Lesbian Adora (She-Ra), Lesbian Catra (She-Ra), POV Catra (She-Ra)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:08:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23621350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minidumpling/pseuds/minidumpling
Summary: It's not easy when you get paired with someone you hate on a project your least favorite teacher assigns you.
Relationships: Adora & Catra & Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra), Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora & Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra), Catra & Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra), Catra/Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 171





	Orange, Purple, & Pink

A sigh slides out from Catra’s mouth as the classroom door opens.

“Come in,” Weaver says.

The class stiffens, hastily stuffing away packs of gum and their phones. In a silent line, they file into the classroom, each student heading to their seat. Catra enters last, dreading being locked in for an hour with her least favorite teacher. As always, she heads straight for her seat in the back of the room. Weaver couldn’t sneak up on her there. Last time that happened the floors in the cafeteria became _very_ clean after school.

Ahead of her, Adora eagerly prepares her things; a notebook and pen lie ready on her desk, pretty little doodles coating the edges of the paper. “Good morning Mrs. Weaver,” she beams.

Catra cringes as she watches Adora small talk Weaver. _What a suck-up,_ she thinks. Only that kind of person can get Weaver to even look at them, much less hold a conversation. Of course it was the popular jock that had it easy with everyone. The familiar feelings of disdain and contempt bubble up inside her as Adora exchanges pleasantries with Weaver. The corners of her mouth curl into a sneer as she watches Adora’s head track to Weaver like a dog following a treat.

Adora takes a seat, her attention riveted to the board.

“Today we’re going to cover the concept of imagery,” Weaver drawls, scrawling the word across the board. Adora begins to scribble in her notebook. “Most of you,” she said, shooting a glance at Catra, “know what imagery is. Unfortunately, none of you have the slightest idea how to implement it into your writing. It doesn’t matter how good—or bad—your writing is, without imagery your piece is worthless.”

She drones on and on. Slowly Catra drifts off, her thoughts carrying her away from the classroom. Weaver keeps her room hot and stuffy; it’s always summer in this class, and it doesn’t help the drowsiness that comes over Catra. She folds her arms across her chest, fighting to keep her head upright as her eyes drift close.

“… essential?”

Catra’s head jerks up, her eyes snapping open. _Shit._ Weaver stands over her, hands on her hips as she waits for her answer.

“Uh...” Catra stalls, glancing at the blackboard in hopes of finding the question on there. It’s empty. “Plot needs an arc?” she guesses, making her answer as vague as possible. To top if off, she adds a shifty grin, a confident and rebellious gesture that is at total odds to the panic inside her.

“Imperceptible as always, Catra,” Weaver tuts. “Would anyone else like to answer this basic question?”

Adora’s hand shoots up.

“Adjectives are essential to imagery,” she rattles off, tapping her pen to her notebook. “You said so last class.”

Jesus christ. Catra can’t believe how cringey this girl can be. It’s like she has no shame, no boundaries. She’s watching a dog beg for its master’s approval.

Weaver nods. “Correct.” She strides away, not giving Catra a second glance.

Catra slouches lower in her seat. Her back isn’t even touching the chair anymore.

“You will all be put into pairs to write a paragraph description about something- anything. For instance, you can write about the sky. At least ten sentences and I will be grading with a sink-or-swim mentality so it better be novel material.”

Catra groans inwardly. She prefers working by herself- no need to fix the fuck-ups that everyone else made. At best, she could get herself paired up with Lonnie- they’d probably just end up getting high together and writing whatever they thought of.

Weaver emerges from behind her desk, carrying a basket and dumping slips of paper into it.

 _Goddam_ , why couldn’t a single thing just go right today? Catra restrains herself from jumping out the window conveniently located to her left, instead balling up her fists under the desk. Weaver starts at the back corner of the class opposite to Catra. She shoves the basket into Kyle's face.

“Pick a person at random,” she says. He reaches in and withdraws a piece of paper. Weaver moves on. Rogelio takes a piece of paper. Aqua takes a piece.

Soon it’s Catra’s turn.

“Take one,” Weaver says softly, shaking the basket. The paper slips rustle inside, prophesizing one to be Catra’s partner.

She puts her hand in, feeling around. Slips of paper are stuck together, the sharp edges poking at her skin. Weaver makes an impatient noise, rolling her eyes and huffing. Catra just grabs a piece at random and pulls it out, barely clearing the basket before Weaver disappears, walking to the next person. She opens the paper, hoping for someone to either carry her or be carried.

_Adora._

Shit. Her eyes flick to the blonde sitting in the front of the class, disbelief in her eyes. What were the chances of picking the one person she couldn’t work with? One in... twenty-five? What was that, a less than four percent chance of picking her? A ninety-six percent chance of picking someone else?

Then again, those odds applied regardless of who she pulled out.

“This assignment is due next class,” Weaver says. “Get with your partners and exchange your contact info so you can coordinate when you’ll do this activity outside of school.”

The classroom erupts into a flurry of motion as people stand, searching for their pair. Catra doesn't want to get up, only stares at Adora and mulling over the shitty luck she’s had today. Adora’s looking about the classroom, looking confused as she waits for someone to approach her. Then her gaze comes to the back of the room and she locks eyes with Catra.

Catra breaks off the contact, seething.

Adora’s picked up her notebook and pencil, heading over with a bright smile on her face.

“Hi Catra! Do y-”

“-Shut up.” Catra stares out the window, watching the trees outside and grinning to herself when Adora stutters off into silence. A petty victory, but she’ll take it.

“...so are you my partner for Weaver’s assignment?”

Catra sneers at her language, timid and soft. She’s not used to being shut down like that, and Catra intends to take advantage of that. She's practically asking for it.

“You really tryna hook up?” She smirks, watching as Adora blushes furiously, sputtering.

“W-what? No! Of course not! I-I- just give me your contact info please?” she asks, desperation in her voice. “This is for a project.”

Catra considers having Adora call her daddy before that, but she relents, taking pity on the blonde. Continuing to tease her would be like showing a baby a meme; their innocence is astounding. They exchange numbers right as the bell rings, rattling off the last digits as they sling their bags over their shoulders.

Adora stops by Weaver’s desk. “Have a good day Mrs. Weaver!”

Catra takes off.

* * *

_Hey! This is Adora._

Seen, 3:34 pm

_How’re you doing?_

Seen, 3:34 pm

_I’ve already got an idea of what we can_

_do, there’s a place nearby that’s got really_

_great views of the city, you want to meet_

_there tomorrow at 8 pm to catch the sunset?_

_Seen, 4:10 pm_

_Sounds good?_

Seen, 4:27 pm

_Ok._

Seen, 4:45 pm

_Sweet! I’ll see you there!_

Delivered, 4:46 pm

* * *

The next day in school Adora just approaches Catra out of the blue, falling in step as she walks to lunch, pushing aside the hair that’s fallen into her face. She’s wearing the same old red jacket and grey jeans, the same outfit day after day. Catra doesn’t acknowledge her presence, praying to God that she'll walk away.

She doesn’t.

People are starting to notice, hushed whispers echoing in the hall as they stop and stare at the two, the popular jock and the neurotic girl walking side by side. Even Adora’s other clique friends don't dare to intrude, throwing sharp looks at Catra as she passes.

This isn't supposed to happen. It’s like a lion befriended a mongoose.

Catra starts to walk faster. She can feel the stares of people all around them, her usual routine of slipping through the crowd irreparably disrupted. She puts on an expression of anger, hoping that Adora will back off.

She doesn’t.

She does, however, greet her in a lower voice.

“Hi Catra.”

It’s nothing like the cheery words that she exchanges with all the teachers. Nothing like the bright voice of the model student that Catra rolled her eyes at whenever she sat up straighter in class.

She shoots Adora a glare. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” she answers. “I just wondered if I, uh, sit at lunch with you. Y’know, since we’re partners for Weaver’s project and all.” She fidgets with her fingers, her gaze flitting everywhere but Catra.

Catara looks around at the spectators around them. They all quickly avert their gazes, turning back to what they were doing. The answer’s ready in her throat, a flat out rejection followed up by an insult, her go-to combo. But as she opens her mouth something stops her; maybe it’s the way Adora's trying to angle her face away, hiding the red blazing across her cheeks. Maybe it's her voice, how it sounded so unlike what she was used to.

She huffs instead. “Fine.”

Adora smiles.

Catra frowns. It’s a different smile too, unlike the bright smile that she’d flash at Weaver or Principle Hordak whenever they’d cross paths in school. It looked more honest, more sincere.

They sit down at Catra’s lonely lunch table, drawing even more shocked looks from the students and staff, witnesses of a supernatural event. Adora cautiously places her bag on the table, unsure of where to sit. There’re too many empty seats for her to decide, too much unoccupied space.

Catra leans back comfortably in her chair, eyes narrowed as she stares down anyone that dares look at her, baring her fangs. Their eyes slide away from hers, afraid to make contact.

“So... uh... you got any ideas for our project?” Adora finally asks. She’s biting her lip, chewing it nervously.

“I thought you wanted to do the sunset,” Catra responds flatly. She tilts her chair forward, placing her elbows on the table. Adora just looks at her, expecting her to continue. She doesn’t.

“Um, y’know, I thought it might be good if I got some input from you before we just went ahead with my idea,” she said, glancing around at the table, clearly taken aback at its emptiness. Catra’s seen Adora’s lunch table. It's crowded, all her friends jostling for space to eat their lunch on the table. Here, she could easily spread her backpack, lunch, and a book across it. “Is the table normally this empty?”

“Nope. Normally there’s just one person here.” Catra stares at Adora, her face a mask of stone.

“Oh.” Adora looks justifiably embarrassed, her gaze going around the table before flicking to Catra. “So... is there any place that you know that has some really good views we can write a ten sentence novel-worthy paragraph on?”

Catra rolls her eyes, tempted to mess around with her. But she’s curious about Adora’s sudden shift in character, so she humors her. “I ski in the winter. Sometimes you can catch the lift on the way up and see the sunset over the top of the mountain. You got trees, snow, the mountain, the lift, and the sun to write about, so I guess it works.”

Adora’s eyes widen. “Seriously? You ski? Me too! We should go together sometime.”

Catra doesn’t even blink. “No. What about your friends? Don’t they go everywhere with you?”

Adora shifts in her seat. Catra suddenly is aware of how much this feels like an interrogation, with her leaning forward on her elbows. She leans back in her chair, looking at Adora expectantly.

“They don’t ski,” Adora says quietly. “They don’t swim or hike or do anything I do. They only talk to me in school.”

“Oh.” The words fall from Catra’s mouth, the only thing she can think of but yet so inadequate to what she wants to say. Those friends, the ones that seemed to share everything with Adora, that hung around with her wherever she was, didn’t even see her outside of school.

And it hurts Catra on a deep level, causes a little bit of the fortress she’d built around her darkest fears to flake away. She was a loner herself, walking home by herself every day after school and microwaving day old tomato soup to eat for her breakfast. Staring into the mirror, hating herself, hating who she was and whoever made her this way.

She glared at the table, trying to shove those feelings back into the little box she'd packed them into.

It didn't escape Adora’s notice. “Hey, you ok?” she asks. She's asking air, Catra’s mind so far off it didn’t register her words. “No, that was a stupid question,” she mutters to herself. “What’s wrong?”

Catra startles, looking up into Adora’s face. It looks happy and content, but Catra looks past the superficial emotions, seeking out the little downward twitch of the corners of her mouth, the infinite darkness that her eyes held. She sees the hurt in the way she breathed, the hitched breathing of one trying to steady themselves.

She sees herself.

She sees a loner.

A small part of her can't help it. Their conversation drifts away from Weaver’s assignment as they talk about their social lives; Catra opens up a little bit. It just felt right, to confide in a person just like her, like a match. She learns Adora sucks up to teachers because she wants their approval, she wants to be the one that comes to mind when they think about their class. She learns that Adora has always skied alone, has always shared their funniest moments with only themselves, skiing faster to escape the roaring emptiness inside that always caught up when they reached the bottom.

Catra tells her about walking home by herself every day, about eating alone, about never going out because there was no one to go out with. Still, she makes sure to restrain how much she tells Adora. It’s a precarious balance, an edge she could slip off at any moment, spilling too much and opening the damn that held her feelings back.

Soon the bell’s ringing and she finds herself walking with Adora out of the cafeteria, bag slung over her shoulder as they shook with laughter at the jokes Adora had kept to herself for years, wiping tears from her eyes. They exchange words back and forth, never finding a dead-end to their conversation. In contrast to how she first spoke to Adora, Catra laughs and goes along with the flow, throwing her own snarky comments back. She catches herself turning to Adora, getting a glimpse of the glint of light that shone in her eyes and the smile that tugs at her lips.

People still stare openly at them as they walk down the hallway.

Neither of them cares.

“So... I’ll head to your house at 8 pm?” Catra asks, turning to Adora. The bell’s about to ring; Adora needs to go to calculus, Catra to physics.

“Yeah. I guess I see you then?” Adora offers a small smile, excitement dancing in her eyes.

“Yup.” The bell rings just as Catra turns to follow the hallway to her class, walking away from Adora, but at the last moment, she turns back to see Adora lingering there, looking wistfully after her.

Catra doesn't feel like her usual self anymore, she doesn't really feel the anger that lay coiled in her chest like a rattlesnake, ready to explode at any moment. Nor did she feel the terrible void that used to sit in her chest and suck everything in. The void seems smaller, more manageable, the anger replaced by a light warmth that swirled through her body.

Adora lifts her hand up and waves.

Catra waves back.

* * *

“So this is it?” Catra stares at the sloping hill, her eyes following the winding road up the mountain. Adora sits in the car next to her in the driver's seat, the car idling softly.

Adora’s house was a lot smaller than Catra expected when she walked over, a small cottage house with vines crawling over scaffolding set against the walls. Soft golden lights shone out from the window, illuminating the grass outside. Catra got a small peek inside: a small kitchen and a wooden dining table with a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It was a cozy home, nothing like the grand marble mansion she'd envisioned.

Not that she was envisioning anything.

“Yup. There's a clearing on the side of the road where we can pull over and catch the sunset."

The last of the day's rays were already brushing over the tips of the trees, catching the edges of houses jutting out of the mountain and slowly vomiting forth brilliant colors. The watch on the dashboard of Adora's car blinked at 8:15 pm; the sunset was scheduled for 8:45 pm. Adora eased the car forward, revving the engine as they began to travel up the incline. Flashes of the horizon were already peeking between gaps in trees, little glimpses of pink and the slightest hint of orange, little flashes of fire in the sky.

Adora drives, humming a tune quietly. They climb up the mountain, the road taking them around and around as they ascend higher and higher. The houses here are bigger, more modern; they're the houses “up the hill”, in this case literally.

She pulls over to the side of the road, next to a wall of grass. Catra’s brow furrows as she watches Adora kill the engine and open the door, unsure of her intentions.

“Is this the spot?" she asks.

Adora nods. Still humming slightly, she grins at Catra before diving into the grass, the blades bending slightly to admit her before closing back up. Catra hears her crashing through the grass for a couple of seconds before the sound fades away, replaced by a heavy silence.

“Adora?” Catra's nervous cry carried over the grass wall, the unease heavy in her voice.

“Come on Catra!" Adora's playful shout echos around, coaxing her closer to the grass.

Catra sighs. Taking one last glance at the car, she plunges into the wall, squeezing her eyes shut as she crashed through the field. Blades whip against her skin as she ran, pushed aside as she shoulders her way through the monstrously tall plants. Around her, the rustling sound grew louder as she ran faster and faster, raising an arm to shield her face and-

-she bursts out the other side of the field, the open air blowing on her face and throwing her hair back-

-an arm wraps firmly around her waist, an arresting cable to pull her to a stop as she teeters precariously close to the edge of the cliff-

-it’s Adora holding her back, clinging on tightly as she pulls her back from the ledge, collapsing backward onto her butt. She's breathing hard, a _really soft_ smile fixed on her face as she gently pulls Catra's arm away from her eyes and turns her around-

-Catra's eyes go wide and her breath hitches as she takes in the vast expanse.

The cliff gives way to a valley, the slopes illuminated by a rich orange that glows on their faces. In the distance the sky is brushed with heavenly strokes of pink, highlighting the skyscrapers far off in the distance as they reached for the clouds, the darker purple hues gently grazing the fluffy shapes.

Catra's breath stops as she stares at the overlook, the silence broken only by a peaceful breeze that rustled through the trees. She's hyperaware of Adora's hand still firmly gripping Catra’s waist but she lets it slide; as much as a part of her demands she jerks away, another part holds her in place, freezes her arms and pulls her attention to the warmth rapidly building between them. Instead, she takes a ragged step back from the edge, almost falling over Adora but she steadies her, firmly supporting her body.

Their eyes crash together in a heartbeat, a blush spreading across both their faces. They’re both breathing hard and fast. Neither of them dares to look away, to break off the contact binding them together.

Catra fumbles for words. “So... what about that ten sentence novel-worthy paragraph?” she asks hoarsely.

“We'll just remember it,” Adora breathes, not looking away. Her eyes are sky blue, splashes of fiery orange between the blues. They look deep into Catra, lost in her feelings and emotions, feeling the aching emptiness in her chest. There's a single strand of hair being blow across Adora's face, waving in the breeze. Catra wants so desperately to brush it aside, to tuck it back into its place behind Adora’s ear.

The rational part of Catra finally gets back into control and her eyes snap off Adora’s, stepping backward out of Adora's hold. She turns away, clearing her throat, hastily stuffing her feelings back down before turning around, carefully composed. Adora hasn't moved; only her eyes follow Catra, concerned.

“Let's just focus on the sunset,” Catra mutters, refusing to look her again in the eye because if she does then _she’ll_ be the one being rejected, standing there with that lost look on her face.

Adora mumbles something about a picture before soundlessly turning her back to Adora, watching the sunset instead of her. Her shoulders are slumped, back bent under the incredible loneliness that Catra had just reminded her existed.

Catra wants so badly to just be able to walk away and never look back, to submit that stupid assignment and forget about it, but her guilt pulls her to Adora, slipping her hand into hers. Adora’s eyes widen slightly as Catra squeezes it gently before returning the gesture.

They stand silently for a second, each person disbelieving the other.

“I think this beats the sunsets while skiing,” Catra murmurs eventually.

Adora slowly traces her thumb in absentminded circles across Catra’s hand. “What makes it better?” she asks quietly.

The question's loaded, there’re so many ways Catra could answer it incorrectly, break the moment again. As much as she doesn't want to admit it, she fears a lie more than the truth.

“You.”

“You don’t hate me anymore?” Adora turns to look at her, a small smile on her face.

Catra grins guiltily back. “Not anymore. I was just a judgmental bitch," she admits.

She really wants to confess a thousand things at once- _You’re a lot better than I thought-I wish I’d known you sooner-I think I’m in_ -

-No. Not yet.

But the words start to come out of her mouth anyway, her mouth speaking with a life of its own.

“I think I'm-” She slams her jaw shut, furious at herself as her cheeks heat up. Adora turns to give her a curious look. “Nothing. Sorry about that.”

“You can tell me,” Adora turns to face Catra, one side of her face bathed in the brilliant orange light, hair gently blowing with the wind. “You can trust me. It’s not like I have any other real friends to tell.”

Catra tries to rearrange her face into a scowl but she only feels it soften; it's like trying to make a cube out of liquid water, it just splashes through your hands. “It’s nothing... just... could you hold me?” she blurts out.

Adora freezes for a second and Catra wants to shrink into herself until she’s a tiny dot floating among the quadrillions of atoms on the planet, infinitely small. She can't believe she just said that; just let the words spill out of her mouth. She's already turning away, trying to sever the tie between them, but then Adora’s pulling her in and wrapping her arms around her and her heart explodes, her thoughts disintegrating as she's slammed into the present with Adora pressing her body against hers. She leans her head against Adora’s shoulder and hears a sigh from the girl as she presses hers on top of Catra’s.

They stare at the sunset as it progresses, the shadows lengthening, orange turning to pink to purple before either of them move again, not wanting to leave their spot but needing to get home to write the stupid paragraph.

Adora drives Catra back despite her protests, dropping her off in front of her house. As Catra gets out, her hand shoots out and grabs hers. Catra turns around, eyebrows raised but Adora can't get the words out; they're stuck in her throat. Instead, she releases her hand, smiling and waving goodbye before driving off into the darkness, the taillights disappearing around the corner.

* * *

“A sunset is composed of different layers of brilliant colors. The rays of the sun brush across the sky, highlighting different sections. The clouds are draped in purple veils as they sit in the sky. The skyscrapers in the city are lit up with light pink, reflecting far off into the distance. The ground is illuminated with a fiery orange that lights up everything near it. If you're in the right place, you can see how the layers intermix, the pink slowly transitioning to purple and orange. The air moves in a gentle breeze, just barely brushing your face. It rustles through the trees too, a peaceful and quiet sound that accompanies you. You feel peaceful on the inside, almost light enough to fly. It’s just you, the sky, and the wind.”

Catra looks up from her paper, fidgeting in the front of the classroom. It's silent, too silent for a room full of 25 kids and a teacher. But everyone stares back, in awe. Even Weaver didn’t have any biting remarks- except for one.

“I suppose Adora did all the work," she drawls. “I'll have to take points off your-”

“-Catra wrote that by herself,” Adora interjects. She blushes under Weaver’s cold stare, her eyes flitting away, but she doesn't take back her statement. Pushing back her chair, she stands up. “I wrote about something different.”

She pulls out a piece of paper from her pocket, the worn creases indicating she takes it out often. Catra can see her elegant handwriting scrawled on the page.

Adora takes a deep breath.

“Catra may not look like a lot at first glance, with her wild hair and dismissive attitude. She’ll mutter retorts under her breath and throw you sharp looks. But if you dig really deep, you can find the bright side of her. Her eyes light up with life when she gets excited, like when she's talking about skiing. When she laughs it spills from her mouth like water, flowing and free. Her voice does sound rough and harsh at first, but soon it becomes almost soothing to your ears. When she tells stories she gestures wildly with her hands like an orchestra conductor. Her skin’s soft to touch and warmer than fire itself. She smells like cinnamon, a scent that fills your body with a warm feeling and makes you dizzy. When it's just you, her, and a sunset, you feel peaceful, almost light enough to fly.”

She folds the paper back up, putting it into her pocket. The entire class is holding its breath, shocked by her words and waiting for Weaver’s reaction. Their gaze switches from Catra to Adora to Weaver, back and forth like a ping pong ball.

A disgruntled Weaver gives Adora a curt nod.

Adora beams at Catra, not the fake smile she’d given teachers for the past ten years, but a true smile, radiating like the sun.

Catra fights to keep her composure in front of the class, trying frantically to keep the corners of her mouth fixed in a neutral position, but they twitch upwards, the fiery warmth swirling inside her overriding her attempts.

She smiles back.

* * *

Works Cited

Danny. Message to 3nigma et al. [_Discord_](https://discord.gg/ca9xNpv), 12 April 2020. 

Stevenson, Noelle. 2018. _She-Ra and the Princesses of Power_. Los Gatos, CA: Netflix

**Author's Note:**

> s/o to Danny for hosting this competition and convincing me to add a works cited


End file.
